idealistic identities

in a perfect world, stickers always peel off clean, the weather man is always right, bags of chips are full, the most wrinkled dollars are accepted by any machine, markers dont bleed through the page, there is always milk for cereal, the other sock never goes missing, the perforate page tears out clean every time, the pencil lead never breaks while sharpening, all of the popcorn kernals pop, people respond to texts immediatly, someone always has a pen. in a perfect world lonliness is something we only read of in books.

Here it is... i guess.

how can i restrain this feeling that is such a pain, oh how can i restrain from living this world with nothing to say, what i see has caught me outraged, seething with inner angst, just trying to get through the day, it's all i can do to stay awake, to keep from falling off this bank, into the abyss of darkness, which in fact i helped create. yet this is the world, so have faith.


i rarely post without editing or thinking. this was typed in a rush and in "angst"


i work and work and sleep and sleep and through it all i cannot help but think, of you... of you... of you...

Here I go again....

This is an old post, I thought I'd dig it up again as it seems kind of relevant right now. I'm sorry I don't have anything original lately... It's been a rough while.

Over my head
It's all washed away
Nothing makes sense
Drifting every day
Waiting for time
To right every wrong
waiting is pointless
wish I was strong
If life was easy
I wouldn't be here
I would be smiling
with nothing to fear
But just like pandora
There is always one thing
Hope will get me through
Happiness it will bring.

Just make sure to pick them up when they shatter. Tape them back together. Fill this empty hole and make me whole again. I'll be renewed, but never the same. Always changed, like stained glass, little of the original remains.

I can't make you hang around,
I can't wash you off my skin.
You won't remember anyway.

You caught me by surprise.

You caught me by surprise. When I was least expecting it. I couldn't hide my eyes. So next time I'll follow Watterson in his unsurpassed wit. Instead of just stammering out a useless reply.

Next time you ask I'll know what to say. I'll do it the Calvin way.

I do Not BELiEvE iN LovE. THERE is NoNE at FiRst siGHt oR EvER. aLL is imaGiNaRY and LovE iN tHE tEMPoRaL SENSE is aN iLLuSioN. THis QuEstioN, tHEREFoRE, is MEaNiNGLEss aNd iMPossiBLE to aNSwER.

But you know I don't believe it.

Wish There was Something I could say...

Sometimes... I run out of words.
Sometimes... I type forever and delete it all.
Sometimes... I write one line and let it sit.
Sometimes... I find that nothing I write fits.
Sometimes... I just give up.
but
Every Time... I start over again.
Every Time... I finally know what I want to say.
Every Time... I write it all somehow.
Every Time... I finally let it all out.
Every Time... I find a way to make it work.

Sometimes I wish people were more like words. I would be able to mold and fit them to my life, my mood, my needs. But then Every Time I realize that working with words is more difficult than most people.